


Supernatural One-Shot Collection

by MushroomDoggo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MushroomDoggo/pseuds/MushroomDoggo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.<br/>Cuteness and shipping ensues within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phone

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” I muttered, pacing almost nervously about the room. “Come on… come on, Dean…”

“Hello.”

“Dean! I need--”

“I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and nightmare at the incredibly annoying tone.”

I sighed, hanging up before the beep. Where were they? I’d tried each boy’s phone a few times now, and none of them would pick up. I mean, I’m pretty sure Cas still didn’t know how, but that was no excuse. Those boys were getting hell when they came home.

I slammed the phone down on a table, putting both hands on each side of my head and rubbing in slow circles. Those idiots. I should have gone with them. Never trust a bunch of sexually troubled men in a siren’s nest.

Then, though fuzzy and full of pops and hisses, my ringtone managed to belch its way out of my phone.

Carryon my wayward son…  
There’ll be peace when you are done…

I grabbed the phone quickly off the table, fumbling through the passcode and over-pressing the pick up button.

“Dean!” I screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you? I tried to call you, like, four times! Each! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Hey!” Dean panted. “Hey, sorry I didn’t pick up, I was… shut it, Sam!”

I sighed. “Tell Sam I’ll kill him later. What was going on?”

Dean chuckled tensely. “Well, we were after the siren, and… well, some stuff happened… I don’t really feel like sharing…”

Sam’s hysterical laughter made it through to my end.

I held the phone right up to my mouth, as close as possible. “SAM WINCHESTER I WILL KILL YOU FOR NOT PICKING UP! I’LL KILL ALL THREE OF YOU! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!”

“So you’re going to kill us?” Cas’ voice was now part of the group. “That seems counterproductive..”

I growled, definitely sounding a bit psychotic. 

“Uh-oh…” Dean murmured.

“Give me Sam.”

The phone was passed around, and I think dropped. 

“Hey…”

“You told me you had this under control,” I said, deadly serious and quiet.

“Well… I did, but Cas actually--”

“No, no. ‘Under control’ means ‘under control.’ You almost got Dean, Cas, and yourself killed,” I told him. “So now, when you come back to the hotel room, I’m going to kill you. All of you.”

Then, Dean, from a little further away, “We’ll bounce back.” He laughed.

“Dean’s correct. We’ve died and come back to life hundreds of times. We’ll ‘bounce back’ for sure,” Cas added.

“It’s a figure of speech, morons! Honestly, how have you managed to stay alive this long? You’re so stupid! And, when you work together, the stupidity multiplies!” I yelled.

They were quiet for a while. 

“We said we were sorry…” Dean muttered.

I sighed. “You’re right. That’s all I can expect from you boys… Well, did you catch it?”

“Hells yeah! We blew those bitches to kingdom come!” Dean shouted triumphantly.

“I am injured, but I think I’ll be fine,” Cas added.

“Well, get yourselves home, and I’ll patch you up Cas. I’m assuming Sam and Dean are pretty beat up, too?” I offered, chuckling a bit. Never stay mad at the boys unless you want an all-out forgiveness battle. They might act all high and mighty, like they don’t need it, but they’ll never get over it.

“We’re fine.” Sam cleared his throat.

“I got shot. I think a little patching up would be great. Thanks,” Dean admitted.

“No problem.”

“Do you have burgers?” Cas demanded. “I need food.”

“Do you have a protein deficiency? Since when do you eat?” I asked. “I thought that was an anti-angel thing to do.”

“Since he found a piece of a burger on the floor of the Impala…” Dean sighed. “He scarfed it down, then made us stop at the next drive-in and buy three more.”

I laughed. “Okay, burgers it is. I’ll pick some up. Anyone else have a request?”

“Pie!” Dean shouted.

“I could go for some pancakes…” Sam added.

“Sure. I’ll grab some at the McDonalds down the street. Drinks?”

“Beer!”

“Dr. Pepper!”

“...Chocolate milk?” Cas asked.

I snorted in laughter. “Chocolate milk?”

“I’ve never had it before.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll get the food and some medical stuff. When you get back, you can all eat while I patch you up, okay? God, do you know how hard it is to be your guys’ mom?” I complained.

“But you aren’t our mother. We aren’t even all related. I thought--”

“Another figure of speech. Just get home in one piece, okay?”

“Yes…” they agreed in unison.

“Thanks, mom,” Dean mocked.

I smiled wryly, quickly hanging up and heading out.

They were lucky to have someone like me.


	2. Nap

“How is she?” Sam asked, swiveling in his seat and craning his neck to look into the back seat.

I was either knocked out or asleep. I don’t remember much of this. Actually, I don’t remember anything. 

“She will be fine. She’s just a little tired.” Castiel leaned over to brush the hair out of a wound on my cheek. 

I had been situated in the center of the back seat, my head tilted over the back in a strange and uncomfortable position.

“Can’t you… you know, angel-touch fix her?” Dean asked. “I’m just worried that she’s gonna… I don’t know. I’m just worried.”

Cas shook his head. “It would be dangerous to attempt it on this unfinished road. The bouncing would make it difficult to mend things correctly.”

Dean sighed, smacking the steering wheel with his palm. “Fine. We’ll pull over at the next rest stop and you can fix her up, okay?”

Cas continued cleaning the wounds on my face, removing bits of gravel and locks of hair.

The car hit a large pothole, lifting us all temporarily out of our seats. My head was thrown forward and onto my chest. After a minute or two, it slipped sideways onto Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas jumped. “Uh…”

“What?” Sam asked. He spun to look into the back again.

Cas had squished himself against the driver side door and was staring warily at me. 

Sam chuckled. “She just fell over. Relax.”

“I don’t know what to do…” he whispered, trying to twist himself into a better position.

Then, of course, my sleeping mind decided it was a good idea to hug him. I basically just cuddled into him, wrapping an arm around his waist and smiling a bit.

Cas made a little whiney sound, squeezing his shoulders in tighter.

Sam bit his lip, trying not to laugh at Cas’ watery eyes. 

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

Sam snickered. “She’s hugging Cas in her sleep…”

Dean’s face contorted to hold in his own laughter. “Cas, how much flab are you carrying around on your shoulders? She thinks you’re a pillow!”

Cas looked even more frightened. “What do I do?”

Sam shrugged. “Just leave her be. She’s been through enough. She needs a nice pillow.”

Dean chuckled. “Relax. Let her hug you, you can hold it against her later.”

Cas whined again, loosening his shoulders a little bit. “She won’t let go…”

“Don’t try to make her let go,” Sam scolded, “Just… you know, stroke her hair or something.”

“Stroke her…” Cas wiggled his far arm free, reaching over slowly to pat me on the head. “Hair? I don’t understand.”

“Its nice,” Dean explained, “It’s comforting.”

“It is?” Cas stared down at me. “What else is comforting?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Well… a hug, kind words, rubbing her arm to keep her warm… why do you ask?”

“Well, if a pat on the head is meant to comfort, then she has comforted me many times. I think I should return the favor… right?” He looked to Sam and Dean for approval.

Sam nodded.

“Sure thing,” Dean added, “You go on and hug your girlfriend.”

Sam elbowed his brother.

“What?” Dean laughed. “Castiel: the ladies’ man. What is this world coming to?”

Cas did as he was told, giving me a light squeeze, then reaching around to rub my arm. His pace swiftly increased to an almost agonizing speed.

“Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“I was… just keeping her warm…” Cas murmured. “You need a lot of friction to--”

“It’s… it’s a ‘warm fuzzies’ kind of warm. Not…” Sam sighed. “You make things so much more difficult…”

“You mean… a loving warmth?” Cas asked. “Tingling?”

“How’d you know that?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. “Just a guess, I suppose…”

He brushed the hair out of my face, stroking it gently a few times before using his hand to pull me closer.

He was learning.


	3. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam x unnamed character  
> Sorry, I just don't like using you or y/n.

I rubbed under my nose absently, staring at the dimly lit screen.

“Hey,” came a voice, straining for dominance over the pattering rain.

I spun around, seeing Sam leaning against the door frame, a forced grin painting his face. He was probably bored, too, after all. 

“Hey,” I replied. “What’s going on?”

Sam sighed. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” he came in, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me.

I scoffed. “I know the feeling.” I went back to typing. “Where’re Dean and Cass?”

“Well, Dean went out for a food run. No one’s delivering in the downpour, so he decided to run to the Gas ‘n’ Sip on the corner,” he explained.

“Ah.” I nodded.

“And Cass… Cass in napping on the couch.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right. And I’m actually a yeti.”

“No, I’m serious. Dean forced him to try a turkey sandwich. Knocked him right out…” Sam peered around the corner, gazing at the conked-out angel in the main room.

I sighed. “Well, I’m losing my internet connection, slowly but surely. What do you wanna do?” I asked, closing the laptop.

Sam shrugged. “Not much we can do. We’ll probably lose power soon.”

“Well, in that case, we should probably get ready, hm? Flashlights, candles, matches… et cetera…” I muttered, playing with my hair in the reflection on the window. I chuckled. “I almost wanna add salt and holy water to that list. God, you’ve turned me into such a hunter!”

Sam laughed. “That wasn't the goal, you know.”

I giggled. “Yeah, sure it wasn’t.” I gave him a quick punch in the shoulder. A smile flickered across his face, and he returned the punch, much gentler.

“Hey!” I snorted in laughter. “Don’t be gentle with me, you jerk!”

Sam laughed, smiling down at the floor. “You aren’t Dean, therefore I can’t beat the crap out of you.”

I scoffed, standing up. “Well, you aren’t my boyfriend, therefore I can.”

Sam looked up, shocked as I tackled him to the mattress, laying him down on his back as I yanked on his hair.

“Ow! Pulling hair? You fight like a girl!” he complained, swatting my hands away.

“I am a girl, dumbass!” I squealed, trying to throw a punch, but it was caught and reversed by Sam. He flipped me over and we switched places, him on top and me underneath. 

Here he paused, and the sound of the rainstorm once again roared in our ears.

“Erm… what’re you doing?” I asked, still frozen in a defensive position.

“I… have no idea. What are you doing?” he asked, not making much sense.

I chuckled breathily. “We’re wrestling, dork. It’s… fun.”

“Oh… well…” He cleared his throat climbing off the bed. “Um… you wanna… play checkers? There’s a board in the closet, I can--”

I sighed. “That’s so boring…” I laced my fingers through my hair, scrubbing them against my scalp in an attempt to make my hair lay flat again.

Sam stood awkwardly in the door now, avoiding my eyes. “Well… I gotta gather up those flashlights, so…”

I scoffed. “Lemme help.”

Sam chuckled, then cleared his throat. “I think I can prepare for a blackout.”

“If you wanna be lame about it…” I examined my nails, even though there was nothing to examine. I looked up at Sam, who was still hovering in the doorway. “I mean, it’s not everyday that we have the place to ourselves. When was the last time we bonded? Just the two of us? Seriously.”

Sam looked at me oddly. “Umm...”

“Exactly! Dean and Cass are always right there. And… well, have you ever seen that much gay tension in a room?” I chuckled. “I mean, I love ‘em like brothers, but I usually get some one-on-one time with each of them. You? You’re like… part of the package. You and Dean and/or Cass, or not at all.

Sam frowned, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Well, I mean… I don’t know. Before we had you, I basically had to parent both of them.”

“Right. But now you do have me. So let’s be friends, okay?” I suggested. 

Sam nodded slowly, but still wouldn’t look at me.

I smirked. “Don’t make me pull out the charm cards.”

Sam looked at his feet. “I think I’ve already been slapped with the charm cards…”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Sam peeked at me from behind his mane of dark-brown hair. “Maybe…”

I jumped to my feet, walking over to lean against the opposite side of the frame. There was just enough space for the two of us there. Sam was bent over, leaning against the frame at an extreme angle so that he was actually shorter than me for once. I tapped his sneaker toe with mine.

Sam looked up at me, smiling a bit. 

“Let me guess-- it made you feel pretty good when I dropped the ‘gay tension’ comment.”

Sam shrugged. “You always seemed kind of attached to him…”

I forced a laugh, looking over at the unconscious angel. “He’s cute… but in that pathetic, depressingly kid-like way.”

“And then there’s Dean…” he added.”

I scoffed. “Have you seen the way he acts around me? What a doofus…” I laughed.

Sam laughed with me.

“That’s nice to hear,” I told him.

“What?”

“You. Laughing. It’s a rarity…” I bent my head down, too. It was hard to have a conversation like this face-to-face sometimes. “I’d like to hear that more often.”

Sam leaned forward a bit, putting his own head against mine. 

I peered up at him, our matching hair creating a tent that enclosed us almost completely. I couldn’t help but giggle at his cute, dorky grin.

Then the power went out.

“Damn it…” Sam muttered. 

We were quiet for a while, staying still and waiting for our vision to adjust.

“Guess there are better times to have a romantic discovery than in a torrential downpour…” I whispered.

Sam laughed. “No kidding. I’ll try not to trip over you…”

I scoffed. “Yeah, and hands off the chestal region, smartass.”

Sam laughed again. 

I hope he keeps doing that.


	4. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel x OC (Grace)

“You’re burning up,” Sam diagnosed, removing his hand from my cheek.

I sniffled, a disgusting phlegm-y sound filling the room. “Seriously, guys? I’mb fine! I don’ feel dat sick! Just lemme help you wit’ the vambire. I prombise, I’ll be fine once I’mb moving around!”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Dean told me, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re staying home today, Grace.”

I moaned, sounding less like a frustrated young adult and more like a small, hungry animal. “I don’ wanna be alone! Dis place is, like, eighdy-thousand years old… it’s creeby!”

“Uh-huh.” Dean nodded. “And the ghosts are gonna ‘rock you to sleeb,’” he mocked, pinching his nose shut to more accurately duplicate my congested voice.

“Grace, we’re leaving Cas behind, too,” Sam brushed a hand lightly across my forehead, his voice soft and comforting. “He’s gonna take care of you while we’re gone, okay?”

I grumbled a bit, my grip on the quilt tightening as I pulled it up over my nose and mouth.

Sam scowled. “Okay?” 

“Fine…” I muttered, my voice muffled by the blanket. “Where is he?”

“He’s out getting ingredients for chicken noodle soup. Says he learned how to make it when he was a human and that he wants you to get a chance to taste it.” Sam smiled lightly.

“Aw…” I murmured, a smile playing across my own lips. “That’s sweet.”

Sam nodded. “Anyway, we’ll stick around ‘till he get back, then split, okay?”

I nodded. “Alright…”

As if on cue, I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing roughly. 

“I’m back!” Cas yelled, his gravelly voice cracking with the effort of volume. “Um… little help?”

Sam sighed, standing up. “I’ll help him get the bags inside.”

Dean nodded as he left the room, then turned to me. “You gonna be good to Cas?”

I nodded. “Of course, I--”

“‘Cause if you try anything weird to get out on the hunt with us, next time I’ll chain you to the bed. Cas shouldn’t have to deal with your…” he waved his hand in my direction. “...shenanigans.”

I snorted (the only thing I could do now) in laughter. “‘Shenanigans?’ How old are you, again?”

“Shut up!” Dean whined. “Just-- bottom line, no sneaking off.”

“Aye-aye…” I muttered, my previous laughter having made it that much more difficult to breathe.

Dean pulled a tissue out of a box on the table beside me, holding it out at arm’s length.

“ ‘Tanks…” I said, losing the ‘h’ sound entirely. I blew my nose loudly, screwing my eyes shut with the effort. When I opened them, Cas was standing in the door.

“Hello, Grace.” He waved.

“Hi…” I sniffed, my mouth hanging open slightly for breathing.

Dean sighed. “Well, Sam and I are outta Sickville. Have fun with that, Cas.” He threw a thumb towards me over his shoulder as he left.

Cas closed the door, coming to sit on the foot of my bed. “Do you need anything?”

I waved dismissively. And weakly. “I’mb fine. The boys are being silly. Just go watch TV or somethin’.”

“Hm.” Cas leaned over, resting the back of his hand against my forehead. “You’re warm. And this room is cold…”

“What? No, it isn’t, it’s--”

“The living room near the kitchen is a more appropriate temperature. Let’s move you out there.”

“Cas, it’s alright!” I held up the edge of the quilt. “See? I’ve got a blanket, I’m okay! Really!”

“No. We should put you in the living room.”

“Ugh…” I slammed my head against the pillow. 

“Come on.” Cas held out his arms, as if for a hug. “There’s a very nice sofa out there, you’ll be quite comfortable.”

I scoffed. “Leamme alone! I’ve got a quilt… an’ a pillow… an’ that!” I pointed at the box of tissues on the table beside me. “I’mb fine!”

Cas looked at me thoughtfully. His arms were still held out. “No. There’s a television out there. Wouldn’t you rather watch television than just sit here?”

I shrugged. “I’ll jus’… nap!”

Cas said nothing, just smiled condescendingly and scooped me up.

“Wha-- hey!” I didn’t exactly have the energy to jump out of his angel death grip, so I sort of... let him carry me out to the couch. He laid me there gently, then grabbed a nearby blanket and tucked me in.

“Um…” I mumbled, “what are you doing?”

“I’m making you comfortable,” Cas explained, smiling ear-to-ear.

“Well, you’re making me uncomfortable,” I muttered.

Cas stopped, pulling his hands away. “Did I do something wrong?”

I chuckled weakly. “No, no. I--”

“Right! A pillow! My apologies.” He strode back to the bedroom, coming back with my pillow and the tissue box for good measure. “Here you are. Anything else?”

“I told you! I’mb fine!” I said forcefully. 

I leaned over to grab the remote, but not before Cas could grab it and put it in my hand.

“Urgh!” I screamed. 

Cas just kept grinning. “I’ll go make the soup. Would you like something to drink before I get started?”

“Yeah!” I yelled. “Some vambire blood!”

Cas’ eyes narrowed. “I... don’t have--”

“Cas, I wanna be out hunting! Wit’ the boys! Like normal!” I protested. I think I actually shook my fist and pointed at him, like in a cartoon.

Cas sighed, then came to sit on the couch beside me, squeezing around my feet. “I know. I really do. The Winchesters have done the same thing to me, banning me from hunting with them. For different reasons, of course, but… that’s besides the point.” He put his hand on the lump of blanket over my foot. “I’m here for you this one day, while you rest and get better. Tomorrow, you can get back to hunting.”

It was sweet. It really was. But, right then, I was too pissed to see how cute it was. “I don’t want tomorrow. I want NOW. I’m not SICK, I’m just-- just-- TIRED!”

Cas, of course, knew just how to prove me wrong. He leaned forward, resting the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re definitely warmer than 98.6… which means you’re ill.”

I growled, frustrated with Cas’ insanely scientific mind. He was an angel, for God’s sake. Weren’t science and religion age-old enemies?

“You know, why can’t you just… you know…” I put two fingers on Cas’ forehead and imitated the sound of a small explosion. “Angel-touch fix me up?”

“Because,” Cas grumbled. He got up and started toward the kitchen. I knew that move.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why not?” I asked again, a joking tone creeping into my voice.

Cas fiddled with his hands, his back turned to me, halfway to the kitchen.

“Cas…”

“Well… you know that humans can’t… can’t fix everything, right?” Cas explained carefully.

“Yeah…” I prompted.

Cas grunted uncomfortably, turning to face me again. “Angels don’t have cures for everything, either…”

I giggled. “And one of those things happens to be the common cold?” 

Cas sighed, trying to keep a smile from creeping onto his face. “Well…”

“Aw!” I murmured. “Widdle angel got beat up by a cold?”

Cas turned away ashamedly, blushing pretty hard for someone who insists they don’t get embarrassed. Ever.

I stifled my laughter. “Sorry.”

“It’s… it’s fine. I don’t mind. The Winchesters like to... like to tease me, too.”

I clicked my tongue gently. “Come here, buddy.”

Cas grudgingly drug himself to my bedside, leaning down for a hug. He was actually actively fighting a smile by now, trying not to show how happy the teasing made him.

I held him loosely about the shoulders, rubbing up and down his back with one hand. “I won’t tell the boys. I swear.”

“Thank you,” Cas whispered, his mouth right beside me ear while in the hug. He pulled away just then, struggling to find something else to say. “I’ll… start that soup.”

I smiled. “Sounds good.”

Cas strode into the kitchen, which was divided from the rest of the bunker by a waist-high wall. Basically, if I just stretched up a tiny bit to peer over the TV, I could see everything he was doing.

Honestly, it was way more entertaining than anything they could cook up for TV.

He started by chopping up some carrots and onions. A simple enough task… if he hadn’t cut himself roughly twelve times. He was so good, though, trying not to worry me. Every time he broke skin, he whirled in a circle, biting his lip and trying not to make any noise to disturb me. I did my part by pretending not to notice.

In about twenty minutes, he had dumped the tiny pieces into a large saucepan waiting on the stove. He poured in some boxed chicken broth over that, then moved to the noodles.

The thing about Cas is that, while he may be an all-powerful being of pure energy, he is so… dumb sometimes. In a cute way. Like a dog who can’t figure out the difference between a doorbell on TV and a real doorbell.

Naturally, Cas had spent a great part of his time as a human eating cheap meals, including microwaveable ramen noodles. Of course, someone else always prepared them for him. He had never seen the little brick they came in. So, to him, noodles were always floppy.

Thus, my first interruption.

“Grace?” Cas called.

“Mm-hm?” I mumbled.

“Grace, something is… is seriously wrong with these noodles I bought…” Cas replied, his voice sounding pretty panicked. “Look at them!”

“What, are they moldy?” I asked.

“Just look…”

I cleared my throat, sitting up a bit to look in the box Cas was holding out to me.

I frowned. “They look fine.”

“Well… well, touch one,” he insisted, shoving the box closer to my face.

I put a hand up and pushed it away. “Whatever you say, worry-wart…” I muttered.

I poked one of the noodles. “They’re fine, Cas. I promise.”

“B-but they’re…” Cas stared into the box, drawing his own face in oddly close.

“They’re what, Cas?” I asked.

Cas looked at me, dropping the box to his lap. “Hard.”

I nodded. “Yeah. They come hard. When you boil them, they soak up the water- or broth- and turn soft and wiggly. Scout’s honor,” I swore to him.

“Hm…” he stared at the noodles a little longer. “I suppose that would make sense…”

“There you go.”

“Thank you. I never knew that…” Cas told me, filled with wonder.

I bit my lips together, trying not to smile too hard or burst out laughing. “Well… now you do.”

I pat him on the shoulder as a send-off.

Cas nodded happily and toddled off to continue the preparation.

I changed the channel, landing on Cheers, right on the theme song.

That was all Cas needed to turn my day into a freaking musical.

He actually stopped in the middle of pouring the noodles in, completely frozen, and slowly turned to face the television. 

“I know this song…” he said.

I pointed at the TV hesitantly. “Yeah. It’s… it’s Cheers.”

Then he started singing:

...sure would help a lot.  
Wouldn’t you like to get away?

I was actually so thrown by his outrageously deep singing voice (and the singing in general) that I couldn’t even laugh. Just stare. Disturbed. And confused. And a little concerned for both his sanity and my own.

Then, as if his surprisingly soothing singing voice wasn’t enough, he started swaying with the music. When the drums joined, jazz hands and can-can kicks made an appearance.

Sometimes you’d like to go  
WHERE EV’RYBODY KNOWS YOUR NA-A-AME!

I think I winced at the sudden volume. Then I started laughing… and I just couldn’t stop. 

Cas stopped right then. “What?”

I took a few difficult breaths. “Y-you’re… singing!”

“Yes.” Cas nodded. “I like singing.”

“You… you like singing?” I repeated.

Cas nodded again. He started to smile. “I discovered it when I was human. I know…” He searched his mind for song titles. “ ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ ‘Hungry Like the Wolf...’ and lots of TV theme songs. Also, one called ‘Defying Gravity’ that Crowley suggested. I do… like it quite a bit.” He chuckled, embarrassed and blushing.

I giggled. “You know ‘Defying Gravity?’”

Canned laughter played on the television.

“Yes… it makes me very happy.” Cas fiddled with his hands a little longer. “Alright, I’ll get back to work.”

I giggled a little more, watching Cas pour the remaining noodles into the pot. It only took him about thirty seconds to start humming ‘Defying Gravity’ to himself, pretending to spread his wings at the climax of the show tune. He shifted onto his tiptoes, dancing around as though he were flying…

And then tripped. And he tried to grab something… and he grabbed the hot metal… and he shot the soup across the room, out of the kitchen, and into a book shelf.

I could only sit there wide-eyed as the soup soaked several dozen important books.

Cas did basically the same thing.

“Um…”

Cas had both hands flopped over his head, as though taking cover, as he sat on the floor.

“Cas?” I stood up, hobbling over to him on stiff joints. “Cas, are you alright?”

Cas dropped his arms to sides, looking sadly at the soup soaking into the pages. “Why… does this always happen to me?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Elphaba. We’ve got some cans of soup in the pantry.”

Cas’ head fell to his chest. “I’m sorry… hey! You should be in bed!”

I shook my head, helping Cas to his feet. “I know you don’t really wanna hear this, but all the hijinks and pratfalls kinda made me feel better.”

“Oh. You mean my…” Cas waved around. “Erm… laughter is this best medicine?”

I smiled kindly. “You bet. How about we save those books from certain death?”

Cas nodded. “But… books can’t die, they aren’t--”

“I know. But if we don’t clean up, we’re going to be killed when the boys get back,” I explained.

Cas paused, considering they joke. He smiled. “I get it!”

I nodded. “Good.”


End file.
